


Ghastly

by Creme13rulee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 18OI AU Week 2019: Day 7: Sci Fi/Dystopian, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - The Host (Meyer) Fusion, Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Enemies to Lovers, Human Katsuki Yuuri, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Protective Victor Nikiforov, alien viktor nikiforov, body stealing aliens, mild body horror, the aliens are bad but viktor is good, viktor isnt yuuris idol because that makes the alien thing way too sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee
Summary: 18OI AU Week 2019: Day 7: Sci Fi/DystopianInspired by/ The Host  by Stephanie Meyer. (Just trust me.)Slowly, the they  have taken over the universe, moving planet to planet-- using the residents life forms as hosts. Earth has been lost to the Ghosts, the monsters invading human brains and nervous systems until the body is their own and the only sign is the scar on their neck and the glint of silver in their eyes. Yuuri lost his family to the ghosts, and travels through the broken society, trying to survive.  That is, until Yuuri  gets injured and is forced to camp in an abandoned ice rink. He’s found-- by a lonesome  silver-haired Ghost.





	Ghastly

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I want to spend more time on! This will be short but longer than I can write this week while I'm moving.
> 
> A few notes
> 
> \- this is based off of my memory of reading The Host 5+ years ago. The similarity probably begins and ends at the alien part and the eye thing.  
> \- There is no Dark Viktor trope in this fic. Viktor is definitely an alien, and they are definitely bad, but there is no twist. The world is bad enough man

Yuuri’s hand shook with the adrenaline of shock. It was very possible that his leg was broken on top of the ugly gash that bled into his pants leg. He was stupid. So stupid.

His only luck that it had been five years since the Ghosts had arrived, and they were strong enough in numbers that long chases weren’t worth it.

Yuuri limped down the hallway, finding the nurses office. Schools had been closed longer than the government had, and before that they had been in the control of martial law. It had happened fast enough that most everything was as it had been when humans had used it, except for a thick layer of dust covering the building like a blanket.

Yuuri scooped a handful of flashlights off from the nurses’ desk and into his backpack. He had heard they had been used to check the eyes of students before humanity lost the fight. Now, they would be useful for buildings with the power cut off.

He fashioned a splint out of rulers and gauze once he had cleaned the wound on his calf and bandaged it up. It hurt, but there was no helping it. At least he was still himself. Yuuri Katsuki still existed in the world.

The ghosts who had taken Yuuri’s family-- first his mother, then Mari, and his father last-- had been kind. They hadn’t taken him to be a host for their own kind right away.

But they had killed what had made Yuuri’s family his family. He hadn’t been back.

He couldn’t trust them. Not after what he had seen what had happened in Saga-- how the cruel monsters only took the able-bodied and culled the rest. Including Vicchan.

The water was still running, so Yuuri drank right from the faucet, washing his face and then tears from it before refilling his water bottles.  
He was so, so stupid. If he had never returned to Hasetsu, he wouldn’t have injured himself. There was nothing left here for him anymore. There wasn’t anything left for him anywhere.

He filled his bag with MRE’s from the school storage-- nearly expired, but still good. 

He just had to make it there, and then he could leave.

Yuuri could see his face was white in the windows of Ice Castle. He was riding the shock as far as he could get-- he could sleep and ride the pain later.

Yuuri took the last key he owned--- he had thrown his house keys in Hasetsu Bay-- and slid it into the front door.

It was quiet. Warm.

The JSF had set up a military encampment in the building once the schools and office buildings had turned up not enough. 

It was still calming to be somewhere that was home-- home without the memories of Mari and mom and dad.

He missed Minako. She had been the reason he had skated for so long. 

But that was all in the past now. The Ghosts had their own art. Their own world.

Yuuri didn’t want any part in it.

Yuuri limped to where the ice had been, his hands sliding along the boards. He made it to the benches before he collapsed, his shoulders wracking with sobs.

A hand rested on his shoulders.

Yuuri scrambled, falling from the bench and twisting his already-injured leg further. He crawled until his head smacked the boards, his vision sparking white with pain.

“I’m sorry-- you looked like you needed comfort.”

Yuuri looked up, trying not to throw up as panic rose up this throat like fire. 

He was so, so stupid.  
One of the Russian skaters was there. He couldn’t remember his name-- only that he had probably come to Fukuoka for the last competition a few days before borders shut down two years before.

“I...I… what are you doing here?” Yuuri shook, pulling a flashlight from his pocket. He barely managed to switch it on, and it shook as he turned it to the mans face.

A fresh sob escaped from his throat when his pupils shone silver.

“Is this your rink?” The man-- the Ghost smiled, sitting down on the bench where Yuuri had been just a few seconds before.

“Yes.” Yuuri hiccuped. It was true enough.

“I bet it was nice,” The man hummed, utterly relaxed. “I wish I could have seen what it looked like.”

Yuuri didn’t reply-- there was nothing to say that wouldn’t anger a Ghost.

“It feels familiar. Like home. I’ve been trying to visit every place like this. I want to understand.”

Yuuri sat in silence. “Aren’t you going to kill me?” He managed, the pain starting to burn up his leg.

The Ghosts blue eyes turned to Yuuri, stricken. “No. Why would I?”

~

The Ghost didn’t leave. Neither did Yuuri. He remained trapped, a fever coming within the next day. The ghost left water and a paper-wrapped meal, but Yuuri didn’t touch either. He dozed fitfully, trying not to sleep when the Ghost was near. But he had no one else to protect him, and he couldn’t last long-- so Yuuri slept with his fingers wrapped around his knife. It gave him a little hope, even as his grip loosened in the delirium of fever.

Yuuri woke up in a soft bed, his pain dull enough that he imagined that he had finally died.

A warm brown shape stirred next to him, it’s tail beating on the matress. A cold wet nose prodded his hand. Yuuri’s heart ached, the pain of loss waking up fresh at the sight of the poodle next to him.

It barked, before licking Yuuri’s cheek and panting happily. The door to the room-- all white and grey opened.

The Ghost.

Yuuri's hand flew to the back of his neck. Even though he knew-- he was still himself.

“You’re awake.” The Ghost’s face lit up. “Good. How are you feeling?”

“Why are you doing this?” Yuuri’s voice came hoarse, his fingers finding the curly fur of the poodle.

“You were hurt, the Ghost answered. “I’m sorry....Ah… I don’t know your name.”

His face fell at Yuuri’s reaction- his withdrawal and distrust.

“Mine is Viktor,” The Ghost offered.

“Is it? Or is it the name of the body you took?” Yuuri stared at the sheets covering his lap. He should be grateful. But it was hard to be thankful for a situation you didn’t want to be in.

“It’s… its the closest to my name that the human tongue can make.” The Ghost smiled sheepishly. “That is Makkachin.”

Yuuri looked at the dog, staring at her depthless brown eyes.

Maybe he was different.

“Yuuri,” he whispered, fresh tears springing to his eyes.

~  
Viktor liked to cook. Some of the meals were strange-- but after time, he left bowls of rice and meats-- meals Yuuri could recognize. He kept to his MRE’s from the bag Viktor had left in the room, and only ate the food Viktor brought in after they ran out.

“You’re terribly thin.” Viktor commented, lingering in the room one day after smiling widely at the empty plate. “I’m glad you’re finally eating.”

Yuuri didn’t respond. 

He had always hated talking to strangers. Even more now that the strangers were brain-scrambled aliens walking in human skin.

But Viktor didn’t stop. He fed Yuuri, he rebandaged his leg and left him little white pills on a plate with a glass of water. Makkachin would visit occasionally, begging for belly rubs. She came to his bed when he woke up from his night terrors.

Days passed into weeks. His wound healed, the bones slowly knitting together.

Viktor came in with crutches, leaving them next to the stack of books.

“Wait.” Yuuri’s voice was quiet with disuse. “Stay.”


End file.
